


Fancy Lads Snack Cakes

by pepon



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Emetophobia, Gen, puke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 04:25:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7085605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepon/pseuds/pepon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you give Danse Fancy Lads Snack Cakes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fancy Lads Snack Cakes

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this fic sitting on my computer for months, and finally I'm posting this. What started off as me laughing with my sister about Danse x Snack Cakes turned into a 1000+ word fic. This is meant to be funny and a bit dramatic.  
> I hope you enjoy! See the end for more notes~
> 
> WARNING: I've put tags but seriously, if puke and food are something that will make you sick, don't read this! I don't want anyone getting sick or being triggered, so I'm putting a warning here too.

It wasn’t like Sole meant for this to happen. Well, maybe they should start from the beginning. It all started when Sole opened a package of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. They had been one of Sole’s guilty pleasures pre-war, and they wanted to experience the creamy delight in each bite once more. To be honest, it took them back. To before everything. To when everything was still okay.

Danse had just walked into the room right when Sole had opened the box. Naturally, curiosity set in. Not with Danse though, but with Sole.

Sole had heard synths liked Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, but they had never seen Danse eat one. Had Danse ever tried one?

“Hey, Danse,” Their voice began innocently.

“Yes soldier,” He directed his gaze towards them. Sole took a cake in between their fingers and wove it in the air. A similar motion to how they offered dogmeat treats.

“You want one?” Sole’s eyebrows raised. They hoped they could lure Danse in. Who wouldn’t want a fancy lads snack cake?

But of course, it was Danse. As soon as he heard the offer, his dark eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m not putting that junk in my body soldier,”

Hearing that, Sole pressed the cake to their lips. If Danse didn’t want it, they might-as-well have it for themselves. As they bit into it, cream spilled out against their teeth. The sweetness was almost unbearable. However, that sweetness wrapped around them, like a nostalgic hug. As Sole was too busy indulging in the moment, they didn’t notice Danse was still there. When they did realize, they quickly swallowed the remaining amount, clearing their throat after.

 “Are you sure you don’t want one? I have another to waste if you want to try…” Sole trailed off, hoping he would take the bait.

Danse’s eyebrows loosened a bit. The arch pulled down, revealing a conflicted expression.

“C’mon!” Sole pleaded. Curiosity began brewing in their stomach, itching Sole even more than initially. Sole beckoned him with their hand while simultaneously looking between the snack cake and Danse.

“F-fine soldier, just one,”

Sole did a little victory “Yes!” before pulling out an untouched snack cake and waiting for Danse to sit beside them. When they felt his weight dip into the couch, they turned around, snack cake in hand.

“Open up,” Sole held the snack cake between two fingers while their other hand rested below, as if to catch any crumbs.

“Soldier, I hardly think feeding me like this is appropri-mM!” Sole pushed the cake into his open mouth. As the cake was squished into his face, it clashed with his teeth in an unflattering way, making it burst. Cream spilled out to the sides of his mouth. Before Danse could get mad, or messier, Sole commanded him to chew. As he did, his facial expression changed. His furrowed eyebrows filled with anger shifted straight. His glaring eyes relaxed and closed. He chewed the cake slowly. After he finished one bite, he sunk his teeth into the soft pastry and took another. Soon, after he repeated this cycle a few more times, he had finished it.

“Is,” He hesitated for a moment, and shifted his now open eyes away from Sole’s amused gaze.

“Is there more,” He questioned softly. Sole could have sworn there was a light pink flushing over his cheeks.

“I thought you said it was junk,” Sole teased. Eventually, they let up and gave him another, taking the last one for themselves.

 

 

However, every time they went out on a mission, Sole noticed something out of the corner of their eye. He would pick up every fancy lads snack cake box he could find. At first it was cute. He would even announce that he’d found one—after judging Sole for the actual useful things they picked up. After a while though, he stopped announcing it. In fact, he almost snuck around. He was trying to hide the snacks from Sole, and they didn’t know why. He had even stopped sharing the cakes. Usually, after going out, they would split loot and share the cakes, but not anymore. Sole wasn’t exactly sure where the cakes he had found went either. They never found any of the boxes. It was almost as if they disappeared entirely.

 There was, though, a green duffel bag in Danse’s room. Every time Sole tried to go near it, Danse got defensive. Sole almost wondered if he had something inappropriate in there. Not to mention, every time Curie or X6-88 came into Danse’s room, they always wanted to observe it. Yet, when Sole asked why, they never let up. Sole knew there was something fishy about that bag, but they wanted to respect Danse’s privacy. After everything he had been through, they felt he really needed that. 

 

 

Inevitably, that night happened. It was three months after introducing Danse to the Fancy Lads Snack Cakes. Danse had been out of sight for a few hours. Naturally, Sole was busy helping around the settlement, fixing bed and food situations. However, they didn’t see Danse during that whole time.

Sole began worrying. Had he gone somewhere alone? Sole headed towards his room. When they got there, they weren’t surprised. The green duffle bag, instead of being distended, was completely flat. Several crinkled wrappers lay amiss the floor. They clumsily formed a trail, which lead to the closet attached to Danse’s room.

Sole could hear muffled moaning from that direction. Slowly, Sole began walking towards that area. They pressed their feet down slowly. Heel to toe, they walked on, in an attempt to be stealthy. They didn’t want to surprise whoever was in there. As Sole progressed, the sounds became more audible.

The moaning didn’t sound pleasurable, but distressed. Soft, like they had desperately wanted to be quiet, but yet, the moans still slipped out. In other words, whoever it was must have been in a lot of pain if they couldn’t keep silent. This had upset Sole. Whoever was in there—they had been hurting. They just hoped they weren’t wounded. Surely though, if that was the case, the trail would be one of blood, not paper. That’s what Sole told themselves to feel at ease anyway.  

Sole reached the opening of the closet and peered inside. The sight was horrific. Worse than anything similar that they had ever seen. Even counting that one time when Sole had _actually_ caught Nick in a compromising position. Although, arguably, that wasn’t so bad.

Danse laid propped up against the wall. Sweat beads had spread out along his hairline. They congregated there, swelling until they had gathered enough fluid, and then poured down his flushed face. As the beads went, they re-wetted the sweat that had already dried. Sole’s eyes moved down his face and that’s when they noticed his mouth. A thick line of drool seeped out one side. His lips were plastered with the white cream, and, to top it off, a few crumbs had collected in the corners. In one hand, Danse gripped his stomach, and in the other he was gripping… ** _a Fancy Lads Snack Cake!_**

 “Oh my god, Danse!” Sole bent down by his side immediately. They put their cold hand on his hot, dewy forehead, checking his temperature. Although, they both knew he wasn’t running a fever. Unless Snack Cake fever was a thing. No, Danse had something far worse. He had… ** _the cake sweats!_**

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Danse groaned weakly.

He began lifting his hand towards his face. Another cake was between his thick fingers, flimsily held in place.

“It looks a bit like the Prydwen,” He was delirious at this point. Sole didn’t know what to do. They felt really upset Danse had eaten himself into a stomach ache. However, they couldn’t deny the oddness and hilarity of such a sight.

As Danse inched the pseudo-prydwen closer to his mouth, Sole smacked his hand. The sticky cake pirouetted through the air before it crashed against the cold, hard ground.

“Hey! I was eating that,” Danse yelled, face twisted in anger. Soon it changed to pain, and he gripped his stomach harder. Another bead of sweat traveled down his face.

“Danse, we need to get you to a doctor! You’ve gorged yourself on these,”

Sole took his arm and slung it around their neck. They pulled upwards, attempting to lift him, but his body was limp, making the task harder. Danse was too frail to transport at this time. Sole put him back down. They were becoming even more upset. How were they going to get Danse to a doctor?

But Sole needn’t worry, because soon he wouldn’t need a doctor. What happened shortly after relieved him of everything.

He lurched forward suddenly, and chunks of soft yellow breading, in a thin soup of cream, spilled from his mouth. This image possibly topped the horrors list—a feat recently thought unbreakable.

The puke didn’t stop though. It kept flowing from his mouth. It splashed against the wooden floor as it hit, flowing further and further out of the closet. As it rushed out of his mouth, Danse’s body contracted, shaking sweat out from his hairline. The sweat beads flew through the air. The sunlight coming in from the window caught the beads at just the right angle, projecting a sudden rainbow as they flew. Something so disgustingly beautiful made its landing as it dove right into the forming puke puddle.

The chunks soon began outranking the soupy cream. He would heave and the chunks would stick at the top of his throat. The cakes were probably 50% oil, explaining why they wouldn’t come up. Danse had to heave harder and wait for more to pile up behind the first batch just to push it out. When these grotesquely pale yellow chunks hit the floor, they made a wet slapping sound. Partially digested cream flicked out at impact. A few bits separated from the overall crash site and flung onto Sole’s shoes. The oily cake stuck to the leather, a type of hug that didn’t spawn nostalgia.

When the puking finally did stop, the liquid didn’t resemble melted cheesecake ice cream anymore, just clear stomach acid.

 

Danse wasn’t allowed near snack cakes ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear, it is hard to find synonyms for cake. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
